


Operation Griffin (working title)

by Non_Sidera_Somnos



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Non_Sidera_Somnos/pseuds/Non_Sidera_Somnos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crime solving story that occurs before Sherlock meets Watson. </p><p>Sherlock seeks the expertise of a foreigner when he is asked to investigate murders linked to a classified government research project. In this short story, Sherlock and his new assistant try to prevent an act of biological warfare that would devastate London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Griffin (working title)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the first chapter of a story I am working on and my first post to AO3. I am writing chapter two now, but I thought I would post the first chapter and see if there is any interest!

     Emmeline Harrison arrived at 221B Baker Street and knocked four times, as instructed by the note she had received earlier that afternoon. After reading the message, it took only seconds for curiosity to drown out the voice of caution in her head.

     “Please, come in.” A man replied slowly behind the closed door. She hesitated there in the hallway, her hand resting on the worn brass knob.  She drew in a quick breath and proceeded in.

     The décor reflected some gothic collector, as an assortment of preserved animal specimens and skulls, some human, were on display throughout the sitting room. The flat appeared to be a mosaic of laboratory and study stations, cluttered with dirty glassware and countless piles of books, papers and newspaper articles.

     A tall man stood facing an open window across the room, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Please, sit. “ He instructed without turning around.  She chose a small red chair by the fireplace, unsure of what else to do. 

     “How are your studies progressing at UCL?” He inquired, remaining motionless at the window. Emm didn’t understand how or why he would know about her new appointment at University College London.  In her hesitation, he answered his own question. “Seemingly well, I should say. Very few foreigners, let alone Americans, are admitted into such a prestigious program.” He continued to speak with his back to her; his deep voice was emotionless and impossible to read. 

     She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but struggled to produce a noise, let alone words. The man abruptly turned on his heel and took long strides toward the chair opposite her and sat down.

     He leaned back and pressed his palms together, slowly bringing his fingertips under his chin. The silence continued as he settled into this habitual pose of contemplation, then he looked to her. His features were difficult to make out with the glare of the setting sun behind his head, though his eyes reflected some the golden-orange light filtering through the window. They were pale blue-green and nearly translucent; a soft color that contrasted their nature, piercing and analytical.

     “I suppose you want to know why I asked you to meet me. It seems I am need of your assistance, Dr. Harrison. I find myself lacking my usual scientific consultant and require your expertise for, let’s say, an investigation.” He said the last word slowly, as if he were savoring the prospect of it. Only then did the smallest trace of emotion pass over his face; a transient expression of satisfaction, only evident by the slight lift of one corner of his mouth. The amusement, however, was short-lived.

      “You know, this really works better if I am not the only one talking.” His obvious annoyance startled Emm back from her racing thoughts.

     She quietly cleared her throat and finally spoke up a shaky voice, “How do you know about me? I mean, who puts a secret message on the bottom of someone’s afternoon cappuccino? Is this some sort of joke?” Her voice gained strength as anger surpassed confusion. “Are you having me followed? Who are you?!”

    The last word rang out and faded away, leaving only the sounds of wind stirring the curtains and the faint street traffic from below. Emm refused to speak until he explained himself; she felt she deserved some answer for the unwelcome intrusion to her personal life. Apparently, her host felt the same, and so mutual stubbornness resulted in a silent stand off. She resolved to play the game and sit patiently, returning his stare and hoping for a resolution to this absurd afternoon.

     Emm wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but enough time had passed for daylight to fade into twilight, darkening the room. Just as she began to question her own sanity instead of his, the man’s eyes narrowed slowly in concentration, as if he were working out the last term of a lengthy equation. She saw the change as some indication that he would finally respond, but instead just sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.

     Furious, Emm stood up abruptly, shook her head, and practically stomped her way out of the sitting room. As she reached the front door, she paused to look back at the odd stranger sitting alone in the dark room. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of speaking first, but frustration and adrenaline got the best of her. “If you are following me, you will stop immediately or I will contact the police. I am not completely sure what the purpose of today was, but I do not want to get involved in whatever obnoxious games you play with tourists!”

 “Please leave if you wish, Dr. Harrison.” He said politely, motioning to the door without opening his eyes. His indifference was unbearable. She jerked the door open and turned to leave, ready to slam it as she stormed out.

     “However, there is just one thing I would like to say before you depart.”

Emm froze in the doorway, still so outraged by his arrogance, yet so curious to hear what he had to say after hours of grueling silence.

He spoke slowly, and deliberately, “Just these two words….”

     Again, she looked back to him with her hand clutching the knob of the open door. The weak light from the hallway barely penetrated into the room, but it was just enough for her to see the same satisfied smirk he had earlier at the mention of an investigation…

“Operation Griffin.”

 


End file.
